Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 04 - Ghosted

by Patricia Rockwell

  “Essie,” said Marjorie, leaning forward, “we were worried about you. Opal and I almost came to get you ourselves. Where were you?”

  “What?” said Essie. “I must have fallen asleep.” She turned and gave Marjorie and Opal a feeble smile and then turned sideways to Fay who looked at her with tenderness. Essie felt the bus lurch forward and the entire world seemed to jerk. She reached out to grab the handles of her walker but there were no handles there. She felt Fay touch her arm softly. Looking over at her silent friend, she saw Fay quietly open her purse which was sitting on her ample lap and discreetly remove a wrapped up sandwich. She handed it to Essie and nodded.

  “Maybe I am hungry,” said Essie quietly. “Thanks, Fay.” She took the sandwich and nibbled on it. Maybe all she needed was just a little nourishment. Maybe that’s why she had been seeing—and hearing—things. She was just hungry.

  As the bus bounced along the streets of Reardon, Essie quickly finished the sandwich. Except for a few jerks and sudden stops, the ride was relatively smooth. Essie hadn’t had anything to drink for what was apparently hours. Maybe her bladder would hold out, assuming nothing happened to disturb her present state of calm. She was actually able to look out the bus windows, along with Fay, and enjoy the fall finery of all the beautiful trees in the neighborhoods through which the bus traveled to reach Tippleton House.

  The bus turned suddenly and began a climb up what seemed to Essie a rather steep hill. At the top of the hill, the bus entered into a long driveway through a gated entrance. To Essie it seemed like a scene from a Hollywood movie—the stone markers on either side of the driveway and a large wrought iron gate, now standing open for the bus to enter. The driver guided the old vehicle through the gate and down a winding, tree-lined driveway, devoid of any other residences. This was obviously private property, and very expansive property at that, noted Essie.

  “Residents,” called out Sue Barber standing in the front of the bus, “we are now on the grounds of Tippleton House. Just enjoy the beautiful scenery. It is only recently that Tippleton House has been opened to the public. We’re all very lucky to be able to get to see it.”

  Out the window, Essie could see acres and acres of trees all in various colors. Leaves covered the ground. Far in the distance, a large structure loomed. It certainly did not appear foreboding or ghostly in any way. It looked quite grand and sparkly, thought Essie. It was a huge brick and limestone mansion with massive columns that lined the front of the structure. The bus pulled into a curved driveway. Much, thought Essie, like Happy Haven’s, but fancier.

  As soon as the driver had pulled on the emergency brake, Sue Barber was again standing and ready to oversee the exit of the residents from the bus. The bus driver quickly zipped out the front entrance of the bus behind Sue and unlocked the luggage compartment where all the walkers had been stored during the trip.

  “Residents,” Sue called out. “Let’s unload now. Let’s do this in a nice, organized way. Miss Fay, you stay here and we’ll get you off last. Okay?”

  Fay smiled and nodded sweetly.

  “I’ll stay with you, Fay,” said Essie.

  Marjorie popped her head between Essie and Fay.

  “Opal and I’ll stay too, Essie,” she said, “and we’ll all four go inside together!”

  Essie didn’t mind having a little extra time to just sit. She was afraid that if she stood up too suddenly—or even at all, she might get dizzy and start hallucinating again. The last thing she needed to happen at a haunted house was to start seeing things that weren’t there.

  Sue motioned and the residents in the front of the bus across from Essie got up and started moving forward. They used the backs of the seats to hang on to and also Sue Barber’s hand as they carefully exited the bus. On the ground, the bus driver helped each one find their walker if they had brought a walker as Essie had.

  Essie was enjoying watching this parade of people move through the bus. Most of the residents knew Essie and she knew them, so there was much friendly chatting and greeting. She peeked out the window and noticed that many residents had gathered their walkers and were slowly climbing the seven or eight grand stone steps that led to the massive entrance to Tippleton House.

  It took some time but eventually there were only a few residents left to move off the bus. Essie had actually lost interest in her fellow Happy Haveners and was glancing out the window at the big mansion. Every so often, she looked back to see how the line was progressing. As she checked over her shoulder, she saw one lone figure and slowly raised her eyes upward until the man’s face came into view. She found herself staring directly into the face of Edward Troy. Essie gulped. Her entire body froze. Would the man attack her right here on the Happy Haven bus? Would he be that foolish? Would he threaten her verbally? Fay was seated right next to her. Would the man risk making such a public threat?

  Edward Troy stared at Essie. It was obvious that the man wanted to say something—and probably not something pleasant—to Essie as she sat there sedately in the bus seat.

  But he didn’t. After an exceptionally long and piercing look, Edward Troy turned his head toward the front and continued down the aisle and quickly got off the bus. He didn’t need any assistance from Sue Barber or the bus driver. He virtually leapt off the bus and headed straight up the steps of Tippleton House without so much as a look back. Essie’s eyes were riveted on the man’s back as she saw his signature leather bomber jacket disappear into the entrance to the mansion.

  “Essie!” cried Marjorie, again shoving her head over the seat and talking in Essie’s ear so loud even Sue Barber could probably hear her. “That was that Mr. Troy! He was looking right at you, Essie!”

  Opal leaned in. “Yes, Essie,” she said. “He seemed to be staring at you. Almost like he knew you!”

  “He couldn’t possibly be interested in Essie,” said Marjorie to Opal. “I mean, really! Essie?”

  “Marjorie!” exclaimed Opal. “Be nice!”

  “I’m sorry, Essie,” replied Marjorie. “But you never seem all that interested in men anyway.”

  “I’m not!” shot back Essie, still staring out the window.

  “So why is that new, gorgeous man so taken with you?” asked Marjorie.

  “How would I know, Marjorie?” Essie lied, continuing to stare at the place where Edward Troy had disappeared. Now in just a few minutes, she and her friends would be forced to go into that very mansion and roam around inside—where the mysterious Edward Troy could be waiting to grab her again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  “Ghost hunting is kind of like fishing, you don’t really know if you’re going to catch anything or not, and most of the time you’re just waiting.”

  ––Ron Thorne

  Essie didn’t find Tippleton House particularly scary. As soon as the Happy Haven residents entered into the mansion’s grand foyer, an elegantly dressed woman greeted them and informed them that she would be their guide and that they should all stick together. Essie wondered if that was to prevent anyone from absconding with some expensive decorative item or just to protect the residents, some of whom might have a tendency to wander off and get lost. The guide, Miranda, gestured dramatically for them to follow her, once all of the residents had assembled in the foyer.

  Essie was just beginning to feel the need to find a bathroom. Surely, she thought, in a place this big, they must have public toilets. As soon as she spied one, she told herself she’d discreetly roll away.

  As for Edward Troy, he remained near the back of the group, seemingly uninterested in the tour. Essie and her pals stayed near the front, primarily because that was where Sue Barber was and Essie believed that Troy wouldn’t dare try anything fishy in the presence of Happy Haven’s official representative.

  Miranda led the group through the downstairs areas. Essie and her pals marveled at the magnificent chandeliers. Every so often, they could hear the chandeliers move which made a sweet, delicate noise, although there didn’t seem to be any draft
and Essie wondered what was causing them to sway ever so slightly.

  The residents were gathered around the guide, Miranda, in the large living room. This was a misnomer, thought Essie, as grand ballroom was probably a better description. Miranda told the group about the building of Tippleton House. She described how Otis Tippleton had built this house for his bride and how she had died before she was able to move in. Otis was so grief-stricken that he closed the mansion and refused to sell it, indicating in his will that it could be opened as a museum only after his death. Amazingly enough, Otis Tippleton never remarried and had only died a few years ago, well into his nineties. Hearing this, Essie developed a respect for the owner of the house.

  Miranda, the guide, led the group of residents through all of the lovely rooms on the first floor. There was a setting room, a sewing room, a dining hall, a study, and various other rooms Essie considered totally useless. Each room seemed to be attached to one of the others and soon she was totally confused as to where she was or where she had come from. The guide told the residents that shortly after the house was opened to the public, people began reporting strange occurrences.

  “So,” asked Sue Barber, “all this haunted house business is fairly recent?”

  “Oh, yes,” replied Miranda, her neat green wool suit glistening in the sunlight streaming through the hammered glass windows in what Essie labeled the patio. She could hear birds calling overhead just as if some of them had gained entrance to the home. “Of course, the house was totally closed during Otis’s lifetime, but once he passed away and the Foundation began the restoration process, many people started recording unusual events.”

  “Such as?” asked Sue.

  “Some of the workmen,” said Miranda, “reported tools missing.”

  “Maybe they just misplaced them,” said one of the Happy Haven men. Everyone chuckled.

  “If it had just been one worker, or one missing tool,” agreed Miranda, “but this happened over and over again. And staff people too, once we opened the house to visitors. They reported seeing strange things. One of our staff saw an unknown woman right outside these windows here—the patio, dressed in an outfit from the 1800s.” Miranda pointed to the farthest window and all the residents in the group tittered.

  “So,” piped up another man near the front, “when you say that Tippleton House is haunted, you don’t mean that it’s like a fun house at a fair where you put together some scary tricks designed to make all us old folks faint.” He laughed and several other residents laughed too, but only a little.

  “Oh, no!” responded Miranda sweetly. “Tippleton House is not designed to scare anyone. It’s not that type of haunted house. It’s just a regular haunted house. That is, many people believe that it’s haunted for the reasons I’ve just told you. Of course, not everyone who visits it experiences anything strange. For most of our visitors, it’s just a beautiful mansion. And I hope it’s that for you all. This concludes the formal part of our tour. You’ve all seen the entire main floor and you’re free to meander around on the first floor as long as you like. However, the second floor is off limits.”

  With her presentation complete, Miranda bid a formal farewell to Sue Barber and indicated she’d be in a small office near the entrance should Sue or any of her charges need anything. Sue thanked her and then turned to the residents.

  “Residents, you’re all free to roam around the main floor of Tippleton House for a while just as our hostess indicated. I’ll stay over there near the front entrance if any of you need me. We’ll plan to return to Happy Haven in about an hour.”

  The residents mumbled and began wandering off on their own. Some meandered near the front and some immediately headed back into the far reaches of Tippleton House.

  “Where to, gals?” asked Marjorie. “I’d like to go look at those family photos in that study again. Some of those old Tippleton boys were not that bad looking!” She rolled her walker around and headed off in one direction. Opal followed her, as did Fay.

  “I think I saw a public restroom just beyond the main entrance,” said Essie. “I’m heading there and I’ll come find you all in the study.” Essie rolled herself in the opposite direction and headed down a small corridor that featured a small inlaid copper sign with an arrow that said “Men” and “Women.”

  “I’m hoping that means what I think it means,” she mumbled and rolled herself down a narrow hallway which ended in a push-in door. She gave it a shove with the front of her walker and soon found herself in a small, one-stall bathroom. A quick potty break and Essie was on her way out to track down her pals in the study. She rolled back to the centrally-located foyer and realized that six different hallways led directly from there. She couldn’t remember which hallway led to the study—where Marjorie, Opal, and Fay had gone.

  “Prattling perambulators!” she said to herself, standing alone in the giant foyer. The beautiful crystal chandelier directly above seemed to answer her with a few tinkling sounds. She turned herself around and around trying to determine which hallway to take. The more she turned, the dizzier she became. Finally, she gave up and decided that any of the hallways would probably eventually lead her to the study. They all had seemed to be connected somehow on the tour.

  Essie made her choice and headed down one of the hallways. As she pushed her walker, the hallway got lighter and lighter. Finally, she emerged into what she remembered was the patio. Here the temperature was noticeably cooler as it had been when Miranda had led the group through here on the tour. Essie looked up at the iron-lined glass partitions. The whole patio looked as if it were encrusted in stained glass. She was sure she could hear birds chirping, but that didn’t seem likely in October. Feeling much braver, now that her bladder was empty, Essie perused the beautiful patio. It would be more aptly named a greenhouse or nursery, she thought. How wonderful! Before she had come to Happy Haven, Essie had spent many delightful years working at Campbell’s Nursery in Reardon. This was after John had had some of his more serious heart attacks. She had tried to help their family financially, although John always assured her that her efforts were not necessary. She felt good that she was able to provide for their family in the way that John had spent his life doing.

  This room was enchanting! Essie wheeled herself around slowly, just taking in its beauty. It was easier to do alone without the horde of people crowding inside. She felt a bit guilty; she was supposed to be looking for Opal, Marjorie, and Fay in the study, but she just couldn’t pull herself away from this beautiful patio. So much greenery! So many flowers! So much like outside inside! She moved over to one of the iron-lined glass windows in an attempt to look out. The glass was so distorted that it was impossible to see anything.

  As Essie gazed through the beveled glass, she began to feel dizzy. Oh, no! She didn’t want or need to start feeling dizzy again! Was it something she was doing? Why was this happening? Maybe she should just sit down. But she was riveted to the rainbow images and shapes in the glass window that kept changing form as she watched.

  “I need to sit down,” she mumbled, reaching backwards, trying to find a bench. She didn’t want to make any sharp movements of her head for fear of increasing the dizziness. Slowly and gently, she turned her head ever so slightly and spied a green wrought iron patio bench on the walkway behind her. Pulling her walker with her, she scooted herself backwards and eased herself onto it. Clutching her walker, she attempted to get her bearings. The dizziness slowly ceased. Essie frowned. Now what was that?

  Sitting on the bench, she leaned on her walker, head in her hand, trying to make sense of the strange things that had been happening to her. There had to be some rational explanation; she just couldn’t figure it out.

  “Essie,” she heard a voice whisper. It wasn’t any of her friends. Fearful of turning around as that might restart the dizziness, Essie froze on the bench. She waited. “Essie,” repeated the voice, “I’m sorry about what happened. Can we talk?”

  Essie thought she recognized the voice. Coul
d it be Edward Troy? Had he followed her into the patio to apologize? Or was this just another ploy to keep her from finding out his wicked scheme? Whatever that scheme might be.

  “Essie,” said the voice again, insistently. “Please turn around.” She could sense the man behind her. What harm could it do? He was actually speaking to her, not attacking her. If he had some reasonable explanation why he’d grabbed her in the back hallway, she’d like to hear it. Of course, he might attack her again. That’s ridiculous! she mused. Sue Barber is nearby. He’d never get away with it. And, besides, if he did attack me, what good would come of it? Sue would never leave here without all of the residents on board. If I were missing, she’d come looking for me.

  “I know who you are,” said Essie, starting to turn around, “and you’d better explain why you did what you did and you’d better have a good explanation, or else…”

  Essie completed her turn. Indeed, there was a man standing behind her—a tall, handsome man, wearing a leather bomber jacket, just as Edward Troy had been wearing on the bus. However, this man was not Edward Troy. This man was Essie’s late husband John, in the flesh.

  She fell from the bench in a heap on the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  “I figure I basically am a ghost. I think we all are.”

  ––John Astin

  Essie’s eyes opened slowly to strange sounds and sights. Nothing new there. But as her vision began to focus she realized that what she was seeing and hearing were the ambient noises and activities in a hospital emergency room.

  “Oh, my!” said a woman wearing a uniform and an ID card pinned to her chest. “There you are! We were worried about you. Can you tell us who you are, sweetie?” The woman was talking while attaching various tubes to Essie’s body.